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We were late, but it was to be expected.
I’d dressed quickly in a black strapless sheath that didn’t leave anything to the imagination and a pair of needle-thin heels. Julian had been right about the state of my hair—indoor storms and broken furniture had made it interesting to say the least, and all I could do with it was brush out the tangles and pull it back in a tight bun at the nape of my neck. I slicked my lips with red and decided that was as good as it was going to get.
We walked into the ballroom arm in arm and swathed a path through thousands of Drakán to the center of the room. The Drakán closed around us in a wide circle. More Drakán had arrived overnight, and they stood shoulder to shoulder and hundreds deep. The clans were each still wearing their own colors, and each clan stood together so the circle around us resembled a rainbow wheel. But it was easily the color black that dominated the room. I hadn’t realized how much the clans had diminished in numbers. Julian was right when he’d said his people were the only ones thriving.
I nodded to Cale of the Éire, who stood at the front of his clan. He was a tall man and thin as a reed, with a head of fiery curls and emerald-green eyes. The milk-white skin and red hair of his people were the result of centuries of confining their human mates and children to one small island. The Irish dragons were all varying shades of green, and they had the least in numbers. Cale was the grandson of the warrior Thelos, and he was Esmerelda’s nephew.
My clan was also easy to recognize in the crowd. They wore our colors proudly, even though it made me angry that they’d defied my, and Julian’s, direct orders. I was going to have to make my position clear and come down on them hard. I was their new Archos, and they would obey me. Or I’d make them sorry.
They showed more disrespect by not dressing formally—most wore jeans and sweaters. They lounged sullenly, with their arms crossed and their eyes defiant. Their arrogance and pride was obvious, and I realized how little I knew them. My job as Enforcer had kept me separated from them, and they only knew me for two things: the daughter Alasdair despised and the person who was called in when death was needed. Commanding them to join with Julian had been a bitter pill for them to swallow, but it was done and they needed to come to terms with it. Getting them under control was going to be a difficult job, and it was just another reason that I needed to leave Julian and go back home. He squeezed my hand as he felt the direction of my thoughts.
It will be all right. They are confused, and your brother is making things difficult, giving them ultimatums. They don’t know who to follow.
I squeezed his in answer to his reassurance, and I tried to keep my mind off Erik. It just hurt too badly. I let my gaze wander around the rest of the room.
The Romanians all wore the traditional clothing of their country. The women wore white peasant skirts and blouses with a wraparound black apron. They wore no adornments or jewelry. The married women in the clan wore a white scarf to cover their hair. The men, who were far more scarce than the women, wore loose-fitting pants and shirts of white. They topped them with multicolored handwoven vests of wool. The Romanians were in sad shape—their numbers were small and they looked hungry. They weren’t at all a healthy clan, in any aspect of the word.
Their Archos, Andres, stood proudly in front of them—a rigid man who was frozen for eternity as the picture of youth and vitality. It was common knowledge that his people were unable to breed. A Romanian child hadn’t been born in more than two thousand years. He stood defiant in front of his remaining family, ignoring the needs of his withering people and condemning them to extinction.
The Russians were a different matter. Their numbers almost rivaled Julian’s. Almost. The Russians had big problems. Lucian had been the warrior to form this clan. That part of the world had been vastly huge eleven thousand years ago, and he’d actually tried to start two different clans, hoping to stack the odds in his favor. He’d fathered hundreds of children in the lands that are now Russia and China, ruling over them both equally. But when he’d died, allegiances had been split. Both clans were considered equal in power, so there was no one who was strong enough to lead them both.
So while Milos was the true Archosin Russia, there were many loyal to Feng in China, though the Council had never agreed to make Feng an official Archos. Feng hadn’t been invited to sit in on the meetings with Julian and the other Archos. But with Milos’ recent disappearance, Feng had very handily stepped in and taken charge of both the clans. Russia’s official color was white, and even those belonging to Milos should have been dressed in it. But instead they wore bright yellow. I could taste their fear, but there were none who were strong enough to challenge Feng.
Feng stood at the front of the group, a yellow silk suit covering his compact, muscled body. His ebony hair fell to his shoulders as straight as rain and his eyes were as black as coals and framed by thick lashes. He was an inch shorter than my own five foot four, but his attitude more than made up for his slight build.
If I’d thought Julian cold when I’d first met him, it was nothing compared to the expression on Feng’s face. Feng was going to be trouble. It didn’t take a psychic to figure that out.
I shivered as he held my gaze—there was a nothingness in the bleak depths of his eyes that terrified me. I could lose my soul in those eyes and never find my way back out. This man was cruelty itself.
Magic spilled across my skin and surrounded me, trying to seduce me with a flash of power that held no substance. It wasn’t familiar magic. And I knew it belonged to Feng.
My eyes narrowed at his audacity. I reached deep down for my anger and it flowed to the surface and rippled off my skin. His thin lips smiled at my attempt to get him to release his hold over me and he pushed his magic at me harder—not gentle at all this time. I gasped and took a step back to steady myself.
“Release me,” I whispered. The power of my words floated across the room and penetrated his shields. Feng was a child. Weak when faced with my psychic abilities. But Feng would not fight with honor.
His magic weakened and his brow furrowed in anger. He lashed out at me, but I was ready. I embraced the whip and slash of his power, much like I had with Julian, and I absorbed it. Feng’s magic tasted different than Julian’s had. It was bitter on the tongue—acidic.
Feng’s magic vanished, and he stood powerless, humiliated in front of the Drakán by a woman. A myriad of emotions crossed his face—disbelief, rage, jealousy. But last was fear. And my dragon fed on it. He made the sign of devil horns in his left hand and pointed it at me.
“You are a magic succubus,” he said. The words were spoken softly, but they covered the room like a blanket.
I’d never heard the term magic succubus, but I could tell by the stiffening in Julian’s shoulders that he had. The power to absorb others’ magic solely belonged to Julian because he was of royal blood. I’d only recently acquired the skill once my dragon realized that Julian belonged to her.
“The archives tell stories of others like you,” Feng spat. “You bring shame upon all the clans. Where do you really come from, Rena Drake? Have you sold your soul to the Shadow Realm? You are no Drakán with a power like that. You are evil incarnate and must be destroyed.”
“You overstep yourself, Feng,” I said. “I am the Enforcer. And I belong to Julian. You are no one. You belong to no one. And the people you’ve forced to follow you will cheer at your death. Remember your place.”
His gaze locked on mine, and I stared him down. My dragon knew she was stronger, and she was going to force him to submit to her. The room was focused on our struggle of wills, but it was Julian who forced Feng’s attention to be redirected.
“My lifemate can handle her own battles, Feng. But know that threats against her will bring the wrath of both our clans, for we are now united.”
Julian took my arm and we both turned our backs on Feng. The ultimate insult, for to give your back to a dragon meant you didn’t believe they were dangerous enough to worry about an attack.
Julian began the formal proceedings, even though he’d stripped the other Archos of their titles the day before.
“Welcome, Cale of the Éire and greetings to all of your people,” Julian said, bowing formally and speaking the old language. He was following protocol that hadn’t been used since the Banishment.
